


Of Wings and Things

by fuzipenguin



Series: Drunken Shenanigans [2]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5265038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This started out as a series of prompts on tumblr that I decided to string together and elaborate on. This particular piece was prompted by a request for some drunken!Prowl</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Wings and Things

     “I like your wings.”

     Skyfire trailed off from his conversation with Perceptor as the barely audible words sunk into his processor.

     The Aerialbots were deployed on a recon mission, which left himself, Tracks, and Powerglide as the only fliers still currently on base. At his last glance around the room, Skyfire had noted that Tracks was chatting with Mirage over by the refreshment table and Powerglide to be absent. Which left only Skyfire as the intended recipient of that comment.

     And while his wings _were_ impressive, even as tucked away as they were in this form, who had spoken?

     Skyfire glanced over his shoulder, automatically looking down in search of the speaker.

     The Autobot second in command stared back up at him. 

      “Sir? I… beg your pardon, sir?” Skyfire asked hesitantly, turning around completely to give Prowl his full attention. A shuffling sound behind him indicated that Perceptor had probably wandered off or taken a few steps away to give Skyfire and Prowl privacy.  

     Not that they didn’t already have some. Despite the crowded room, a little bubble of space surrounded the tactician as if there was an unspoken rule that everyone must stay an arm’s length away from Prowl. And that arm must belong to a very, very large mech.

     Which… was a little sad if Skyfire thought about it. And lonely.

     “I like your wings,” Prowl repeated, a little more loudly, optics serious and intense as he gazed up at Skyfire.

     “… thank you?” 

     He rarely conversed with the tactician outside of receiving commands and exchanging data. Skyfire and Prowl certainly didn’t chat together on their off duty hours. So Skyfire was a little at a loss in how he should respond.

     Come to think of it… was Prowl ever off duty? His very presence at this gathering and the cube of faintly glowing energon in his hand seemed to indicate so.

     And yet Skyfire couldn’t shake the feeling that he should come to attention and await instruction. Fidgeting in place, he surreptitiously drew the hand holding his own container of high grade behind his back.

     “You’re welcome.”

     Prowl’s expression softened a little, and the beginnings of a smile appeared. Skyfire’s jaw dropped, astounded by the way the upturn of his lips practically lit up the tactician’s face. He was undeniably handsome, with a strong jaw and cheekstruts, but one tended to overlook that when faced with his normally stern demeanor.

     Behind Prowl, his sensory panels made a little circle and then swept upwards, catching Skyfire’s optics. He had a hard time looking away from those hypnotically swaying appendages when Prowl spoke again. 

     “I have wings too,” Prowl informed Skyfire smugly, looking over his shoulder at one of his doorwings. “Of a sort, anyway. Would you like to touch one?”

     Skyfire fumbled his cube, some of the energon sloshing down the back of his leg. That was… that was an incredibly suggestive question! Was Prowl… _flirting_ with him?!

     “No, I’m sure he doesn’t, Prowler,” Jazz said, suddenly swooping into all that open space behind Prowl. Skyfire immediately felt better. Both because Jazz was here to help make things make sense again and because if there was one mech who refused to keep distance between himself and Prowl, it was Jazz. “I was wondering where you went to. Guess you got a little thirsty, huh?”

     He began tugging Prowl away, the tactician leaning into Jazz’s side with a happy purr of his engine. Skyfire had to tap down the surge of discomfort he felt at seeing Prowl and Jazz’s closeness. They were best friends after all, and hadn’t Skyfire been relieved just moments earlier when Jazz had arrived?

     “Sorry, ‘Fire. I’m pretty sure someone spiked his drink, based on what some others have said. Or stuttered, in Optimus’ case. Anyway, I’ll get him out of your wires. Have a good rest of your night!”

     As Prowl was led away, Skyfire could clearly hear him telling Jazz that Skyfire had the most handsome wingspan out of any flier that Prowl knew. The shuttle felt his entire frame warm at the words and the stickiness drying on the back of his leg no longer bothered him. 

     “I… I actually kind of would…” Skyfire murmured to himself, staring longingly after the two black and white mechs as they disappeared back into the crowd.

 

~ End


End file.
